Kim's Cookbook
by Six-string Samurai
Summary: Kim has discovered a great evil that threatens the very existence of humanity. She knows its name, and that it has already taken the life of her father. Only she can stop...The Man. Kiro/Kigo
1. Prologue

Kim Possible is property of Disney. This is a work of fiction and not for profit. Original characters are property of author. "Kim's Cookbook" A fan fiction by S3Cubed.

It was nearly three in the morning, and the streets of Middleton were all but empty save for a single pair of headlights. The little green Volkswagen bug crept along the boulevard at a snail's pace, eventually angling across the lane toward the entrance of a vacant lot next to the local Bueno Nacho. The tiny car stopped over two parking spaces near the drive-in entrance.

"You're really really sure about this," the driver, a boy in his late teens, turned toward a girl in the front passenger seat.

"Of course I'm sure. Why? You're not chickening out, right? After that stunt you pulled last time, you owe me," she replied, pulling on a pair of leather gloves with the fingertips cut off. "I'd like to be taken seriously, and that's hard when my own partner doesn't seem to trust me," the teen flicked aside a stray bit of hair that had fallen free from the loose ponytail she'd pulled it into.

The boy cut the headlights, but left the engine idling. "Come on, you know I've got your back. It's just sometimes you really get caught up in the moment. I thought we were trying to make a point, change things."

"How can you say you really have my back, when you called the cops, Ron," her words held more exasperation than any real heat. "You said you'd make it up to me, and I'll be damned if I let you walk away a second time. This is the perfect chance to get our message out there, so don't screw me over again."

"I told you I didn't call the cops, just the manager of the Smarty Mart," the blond teen sulked. "There were still a ton of people there, KP."

The girl turned away to look out the window at the Bueno Nacho building. The lights were off, and there were obviously no other cars in the parking lot. "That doesn't look like it'll be a problem this time, does it?"

"No," Ron looked past the girl, the lamp light in the lot reflecting off her red hair, and out at their target. "I guess not." Still, he didn't seem quite convinced and kept glancing around to be sure.

The redhead twisted around in her chair, reaching over to the back seat. "Hey, get off my bag," she muttered. "Ron, tell your dog to get his ass off my stuff, if he knows what's good for him."

The dog in question was a squat pit bull, whose already short fur looked to have been taken to with a razor, leaving the animal nearly hairless. Adding to the bizarre look, it appeared someone had attempted to tie-dye the animal, and likely the reason for the shaving.

Ron didn't bother with looking back, as he was otherwise occupied, digging out a crumpled cigarette pack from the ash tray below the dash. "Rufus, buddy, you don't want to mess with that stuff." Opening the pack, he dug around, lifting it up to peek inside, "Come on- can't be all out." He apparently found what he was looking for not two seconds later, doing a quiet victory wiggle in his seat.

In the back, Rufus grunted, but scooted off the sports bag and sat down on the ripped upholstery instead. He didn't exactly look happy with the change, but settled his head on his paws, giving the redhead what might have been a nasty glare if he'd been human. Sure the bag had been lumpy, but at least it didn't have springs sticking up to jab at his belly.

"Finally," KP grabbed at her sport bag, dragging it up into her lap in the front seat. Unzipping it, she peered inside, smiling satisfied to herself. Everything looked like it was all there, and nothing was messed up, no thanks to Ron's hairless mutt. "I had a hell of a time getting this some of this, so we've gotta make tonight count. I don't like owing that techno-geek a whole bunch of favors. He gives me the creeps sometimes. Well, you ready? Ron?"

The blond was almost pressed up against the steering column, staring out across the lot through a quickly expanding cloud of smoke. "What's the plan?"

KP rubbed at her eyes, she had to repeat to herself that her partner wasn't an idiot, even if they'd gone over it twice on the drive here. He wasn't stupid, just easily distracted, more often than not. That didn't mean he didn't make things hard on her, just by being himself. Though she might feel the compelling urge to strangle him, sometimes, it was easiest to leave things be. Call it dumb luck, or what she'd long known as the Ron-effect, things had a way of either falling into place at the last moment, or coming back to bite her in the ass, as evidenced by the Smarty Mart fiasco. "Ron, just take these and get your half-baked ass out the door," so saying she thrust several cans of spray paint into the zoning out teen's lap.

For his part, the blond stared at the cans, taking a long pull from the joint dangling precariously from his mouth. He knew exactly what his part was, despite his comment. He still wasn't comfortable with some of KP's ideas. Plus, art wasn't exactly a forte of his. As if to remind him of that fact, he caught sight of Rufus in the rear-view mirror. The pit bull met his gaze, seeming none too pleased. "It's all right buddy, I'm sure it'll grow back looking good as new, you know, eventually." He tugged at the front of his shirt, in all its splotchy psychedelic glory. Rufus would have looked so cool, had it worked out like planned.

"Earth to Ron, get your ass in gear, we don't have all night," the redhead reminded him as she climbed out of the car, careful not to slam the bag she was toting in the door. She paused, poking her head back in, "And, make sure you take the keys. I'll be setting up around the back, you get started," she looked over her shoulder across the lot, "over there between those two lights," she pointed to a set of poles about fifty meters from the Bueno Nacho.

"Over there? Right," he cut the engine, pocketing the keys to be sure. "Let's go Rufus; we've got a big-ass A to paint." The blond hopped out of the car, followed shortly by his defurred dog.

"Don't forget the circle, it doesn't mean anything without it," Kim called after the two, shaking her head. Sometimes he remembered, but usually he didn't. Hefting the bag across her shoulders, she jogged around the side of the fast food restaurant. This wasn't about the food, really. She actually liked most of what was on the menu. It didn't hurt that it was easy on her meager pocketbook. No, it was about what the place stood for, rampant and unstoppable consumerism. The place was a sign of the times, and a growing cog in the corporate machine that was eating this country alive from the inside out.

The redhead bore no illusions that this one act was going to change anything. It wasn't, in of itself. But, it was however part of the greater picture, the plan she'd begun working on. It was the first in a series of ever-increasing signals to open the eyes of the sleeping masses. It was a sign to the Man, that the machine would not go unopposed! The times, they we're changing, and she planned on being the herald.

Smarty Mart had been a mistake on her part. It was a little too high profile for now. But, Bueno Nacho on the other hand, would make for a better first stepping stone. It had to die. "These should do just the trick," KP crouched down by the service entry door and opened the bag. Reaching in, she pulled out three tubes, each little bigger than a can of soup, with a toggle switch on one side. Flicking the three switches, she carefully placed the devices around the base of the building, forming a rough triangle around the restaurant. Pleased with her handiwork, she headed back to check on how Ron was doing.

Across the parking lot, the boy and his dog were busy with their own task. "KP said make this a big one, but man, this is tough," he wiped an arm across his forehead. He wasn't really sweating, but it felt like he should have been. Rufus wasn't helping out, not really, but Ron liked to think that the pit bull was doing his part. He'd even tried giving the dog a spray can, but Rufus spat it out, saying something about the paint residue tasting terrible. So, Ron had asked him to keep a sharp watch for security guards or cops. Rufus was sitting off to one side of the partially complete circle, possibly doing what his owner requested, when a shadowy figure rushed out of the darkness, into the pool of light from the overhead post. The dog rose to his feet in challenge of the intruder, letting out the beginnings of a low growl.

The blond heard his dog starting to get riled up, and spun around, finger still pressed on the cap of the can he was using. An arc of red paint misted the air. "The cops," the startled teen coughed, eyes furtively darting around to locate the perceived threat, coming to rest on the obvious source of disturbance. Rufus was pointedly growling at a figure dressed in faded black cargo pants, and an olive drab t-shirt that was one size too small, holding a black bag up in front of its face. The bag sported a fresh red stripe.

That's when everything clicked back into place, and Ron realized that the menacing sound wasn't in fact coming from his dog, but from behind the bag, from KP. "Oh, uh…you startled me," the words came out in a jumble, more of a question than a statement. "KP," he questioned furtively, as she lowered the bag. "Um, finished already?"

"Ron, just shut up. Give me one of those other cans, so we can get this over with and go, and keep that dog out of my face while you're at it," she slung the bag back out of the way, thankful she'd anticipated at least one of Ron's antics before it bit her in the butt. "I'm taking this too," she snagged the remainder of the joint from his lips before he could do anything in protest, and finished it as they finished up tagging the lot.

A few minutes later, once they were done and back in the VW, the redhead pulled the last item out of the bag, "What are you waiting for? Start the car, and let's get going." She fingered the remote trigger in her hands. This was it.

"Aren't you gonna," Ron trailed off, thinking about it before he finished his sentence. KP was giving him one of those looks. "Right, stupid question," he grinned as the engine turned over. Putting the bug in reverse, he floored the accelerator, spinning the vehicle around in the lot until they were facing the street again. "Aaand, off we go!"

Squealing its tires, the VW bumped the edge of the curb as Ron overcorrected and skidded out into the street. In the back seat, Rufus slid around, letting out a yelp as his idiot master swerved across the lanes. Kim just sat there, watching the Bueno Nacho shrink behind them in the side mirror. "Objects in the mirror are hotter than they appear," she snickered to herself, mashing three of the four buttons on the remote.

As the pipe bombs went off in unison, the night sky of Middleton was lit with the first flames of revolution.

* * *

A/N: Another challenge fic. It's not my fault.


	2. Aside 1

Kim Possible and characters are property of Disney and I do not own them. This is a work of fiction and not for profit. Original characters are property of author. "Kim's Cookbook" A fan fiction by S3Cubed.

Elsewhere…

"I am the Man…if I do say so myself, which I do," a shrill voice cut through the cold air in the largely empty space. The owner of said braggadocio was a thin man who appeared to be in his early forties, but it was hard to tell given the poor lighting. He was standing triumphantly with both arms raised to the heavens, just beneath a large tarpaulin covered mass. All around were signs of tireless work, consisting of scraps of metal and spare electronics.

The man lowered his arms, though he didn't manage to subdue the vicious laughter that mostly caught in his throat. "Just look at it, I'm going to be so rich after this baby hits the market. Look at it," he marveled mostly to himself, though from the way he kept glancing over his shoulder it was obvious he wasn't quite alone in the repurposed aircraft hangar.

"Isn't it mind-blowing, Shego?" The man asked more directly, clearly expecting some kind of response. When none was forthcoming, he ran a hand through the thick shock of black hair on his head, and frazzled it right down to the length that flowed over the back of his collar. He'd never been one for keeping up with the fashion times, but the mullet he was sporting had surely died two decades ago. "Shego," he called out, a little uncertainty ringing in his voice as he peered into the darker recesses of the hangar that were out of reach of the working lamps he was standing under.

"What the hell do you want, Doc? I told you, if it's not work related, I don't freaking care about it," the reply came from a shadowed area next to a pile of wooden crates and a metal table that was covered in orderly stacks of firearms. "Besides, you've got the damn thing covered up. Last I checked, I don't have x-ray vision."

"R-right. Well, this is work related, I'll have you know," the man near the still covered object in question spat out. "My latest masterpiece, behold," he announced as he yanked on the released to the ties that were keeping the tarp in place. The heavy beige material slid backward and dropped off, unveiling a surprisingly complex bit of machinery. "I call it, Balgrave the Redeemer," he said, clearly caught up in the moment, again.

"Redeemer? What's it supposed to be redeeming? It's goddamn ugly to boot," the mostly hidden figure scoffed at the revealed metal monstrosity. It was true that the grossly proportioned hunk of machinery wouldn't be winning any recognition in the outer appeal category. It was vaguely humanoid in shape, in that it was clearly bipedal. It would certainly tower well above the average man, as it stood just over ten meters in height. That alone was impressive, assuming it was actually fully functional.

"Liberator was already taken," the lab coated man sighed. "And, it's not ugly, merely functional. Mass destruction doesn't need to look pretty, you know," he replied with a bit of hurt. "But, I suppose it could do with an actual paint job. Primer gray isn't the most tactically sound of color schemes," he admitted. "There have been some new developments in camouflage pattering that I could potentially use…"

Sensing the 'Doctor' was warming up for an impromptu rant, the figure took the opportunity to discreetly disappear further into the shadowed interior, present in body if not in mind. A mind numbing lecture on optical camouflage wasn't on the menu for tonight.

The self-absorbed man continued his speech, oblivious to the now empty chair he continued to address with great passion and conviction on applying battlefield grade active stealth technology to the product he was intent on selling to the highest bidder. Ideally, he would be arming all sides of the ongoing Middle Eastern conflicts, and the Asian Bloc. It would change the face of warfare as the world knew it. A revolution was at hand!


End file.
